Repentance
by FanficFixation
Summary: Tricked by Metatron and kicked out of the bunker, Castiel finds himself both graceless and homeless. Now the ex-angel finds himself struggling to cope as a fully-fledged human, especially when he finds himself at the mercy of some angry fallen angels.


**Summary** - Tricked by Metatron and kicked out of the bunker, Castiel finds himself both graceless and homeless. Now the ex-angel finds himself struggling to cope as a fully-fledged human, especially when he finds himself at the mercy of some angry fallen angels.

_Italics_ are Castiel's inner thoughts and memories.

**Repentance**

_**Chapter 1**_

'_You can't stay.' _

It had been almost two months since Dean told Castiel to leave the bunker.

Weeks had passed since his departure, yet the fallen angel still couldn't erase the elder Winchesters words from his mind.

They echoed constantly in his head, _taunting_ him, reminding him that once again he'd failed. He'd been a failure as an angel, and now he'd become an unwanted burden- a human liability.

It was his fault that the angels had fallen from heaven; he should never have trusted Metatron. Not only was he responsible for the fact that thousands of angels were now aimlessly walking the earth, his grace had been stolen, leaving him weak and vulnerable.

To make matters worse, he'd been turned out onto the streets by one of his only friends, leaving the Castiel feeling exceedingly lost and defenceless.

The first time he'd cast eyes on the Winchesters after the fall, he had felt an abundant sense of relief, thankful that finally he would be safe.

His joy was soon short lived when Dean showed him the door, his optimism shattering into a thousand pieces like a pane of glass. His depressing thoughts were all he had for company now.

_You're nothing but an inconvenience without your powers._

Now he was alone again, with nothing to his name but the clothes on his back and the worn pack slung across his shoulder, which Dean had crammed with some notes and a handful of loose change, along with a few forged credit cards.

_He only gave you money because he pities you._

Since his departure from the bunker, Castiel had been heading on a downward spiral.

As he aimlessly wandered the streets, he tried to convince himself that he would have eventually left of his own devices. It was a pathetic attempt to diminish the pain and betrayal he felt, but after a while he stopped feeding himself the lie. After all this time it still hurt to think that after everything they had been through together, it was Dean who had cast him out.

Feelings were new to Castiel.

Since becoming human, everything had been overwhelming. The thirst, hunger, and fatigue were a nuisance, but he knew he would grow accustomed to them over time, although he wasn't sure he could say the same for emotions.

Emotion was a strange thing.

He'd first felt it when Metatron slit his throat, the sharp blade stinging as it punctured the skin, the angels grace being pulled as his power drained away. He had been so defenceless, bound to a chair; forced to listen to Metatron's poisonous words.

'_I want you to live this new life to the fullest.'_

Drifting the streets without a sense of purpose, what a wonderful job he was doing of living his 'new life.'

This new feeling that seemed to follow him around, it was a sense of unease and helplessness, which he had now come to identify as fear.

Despite watching over earth for thousands of years, he would never grow accustomed to the new sensation that was described as humanity. There were a lot of things that the fallen angel would never understand. There were so many questions about his new life buzzing around in his head, but there was no one around to ask.

Castiel didn't miss the way people's eyes followed him wherever he went, their gazes lingering on his tousled dark hair and the ill-fitting clothes that hung loosely from his frame. Where ever he went, he knew that he would never 'fit in'; even as an angel, Castiel had always been different from his brothers and sisters, always somewhat of an outcast. Now as a mere human, he felt more isolated than ever.

_Pathetic._

He spent weeks wondering the streets and hopping from motel to motel with his array of forged credit cards, observing the behaviour and mannerisms of complete strangers, trying to learn how to survive and how to integrate with the rest of society.

For the first few weeks after he'd left the bunker, he'd grown accustomed to retrieving the cell phone Dean had given him from the depths of his tattered pack, staring at the device longingly, tracing the buttons with his fingertips. Every day he repeated the same ritual, pondering whether or not he could summon the courage to make a single phone call; one measly call that could make the loneliness subside.

Castiel didn't expect miracles or forgiveness.

Just the familiar sound of Deans voice would be enough to ease his misery.

Of course, he never did call Dean. After all the things he had done during his long existence as an angel, he couldn't find the courage to make one simple call.

Eventually his credit cards stopped working, and he had no other option but to make that difficult call.

He was surprised that the Winchester had even answered.

'_Hello?'_

Castiel suddenly found himself rendered speechless; it had been too long since he'd heard that voice.

'_Dean, it's me.'_

'_Cas?'_

'_Dean, I'm sorry to bother you, but I-'_

'_I'm sorry Cas- I gotta go, I'm busy. I'll call you back later…'_

'_Dean, wait-'_

The line went dead, along with Castiel's hopes.

Another month passed since the phone call, and of course Dean never did call him back.

Castiel wasn't surprised.

_He doesn't have time to deal with your problems._

He was a nuisance and he should never have called. Dean didn't have the time to care for a pathetic fallen angel when he was so busy saving lives, but still a small part of him was disappointed.

He had finally run out of cash.

All that remained of his once plentiful supply were a few measly notes and some small change, not nearly enough for a roof over his head. After checking out of the motel, he wandered the streets until he found himself perched beneath a tree in a park, watching strangers pass by. He emptied the contents of his backpack onto the earthy ground, trying to decipher what his next move would be. It wouldn't be long until he ran out money completely- then, how would he obtain food and water?

Here he was out in the open with nowhere to hide, served on a platter to the bitter angels that were undoubtedly still looking for him.

He released a weary sigh, leaning back against the hard bark of the tree, closing his brilliant blue eyes. Things had been less stressful when he was an angel, when he'd had no need for sustenance.

His thoughts drifted back to the brief phone call with Dean little over a month ago. Back when he'd still possessed his grace, whenever Dean had prayed, Castiel had always answered without hesitation, doing his best to help him with whatever he needed. From fighting, to healing, even when Heaven was at war he'd still found the time to offer his help.

But now he needed Dean's help, and the Winchester was nowhere to be seen.

It wasn't fair.

Like humans and angels alike, he had made mistakes, but he had learned from them.

Did Dean still hold a grudge against him for all the times that he had lied to him and Sam?

A strong flurry of wind sent a shiver riveting down his spine, and he folded his arms in a dismal attempt to stay warm, burying his face deeper into his blue jacket, teeth on the verge of chattering as the cold stung wickedly against his skin.

He missed Jimmy's trench coat which he'd been forced to abandon in the laundrette; it was like he had been forced to leave a fragment of himself behind. He felt incomplete without the familiar garment hanging from his frame.

Castiel got to his feet and began to walk, ignoring the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He could find food later.

First, he had to seek shelter before nightfall.

As he passed a trashcan, he paused, delving a hand in his pocket and pulling out his unused cell-phone. He stared at the device with a frown, certain that Dean had only given it to him to make himself feel less guilty.

He probably never had any intention of actually using it.

After a brief contemplation, he seized the cell phone with both hands and promptly snapped it into two pieces before tossing it into the trash, turning on his heel and walking away without looking back.

It was better to remove the temptation.

_They won't even notice, they'll forget all about you._

Now that he had severed ties with the Winchesters, he was completely and utterly on his own, and it terrified him.

Eventually he found a sheltered underpass; it was damp and dirty but the aching in his feet greatly outweighed his desire to find somewhere drier to sleep. He shrugged off pack and leaned against it, zipping up his hooded jacket in a pathetic attempt to keep out the cold.

Castiel frowned as he struggled with the zipper, his fingers numb and his back beginning to ache. Sleeping on the cold, hard floor would get old very quickly. He shuddered as he tucked his hands under his arms in a dismal attempt to keep them warm when a memory of Dean's voice came to mind.

'_You know who whines? Babies!'_

He was so consumed by his misery that he didn't hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching behind him.

He didn't register another presence until a large hand seized him tightly by the shoulder, causing him to jump at the unexpected contact.

'Hello Castiel.'

His eyes widened in panic.

The angels had found him.

Before Castiel could force his cold, tired body to his feet, there were two fingertips pressed against his forehead, followed by a warm glow and a blue ray of light.

Suddenly he felt heavy, each of his limbs leaden and numb as he felt body descend to the ground. The last thing he remembered before the darkness engulfed him was a husky voice whispering threateningly in his ear.

'It's time to repent your sin's.'


End file.
